Afterlife
by Minako Miharu
Summary: Patience is once again its own reward.


Disclaimer: Characters are Ms Takahashi's, the plot twist is mine, I hope you enjoy! Written originally for the iyfic-contest LJ community!

The _other_ had been the first to fall away, though he had also been the first thing that he'd seen upon awakening here. That terrifying visage in the mirror with the markings on his face that meant Rage and who had blood on his hands both innocent and not, blood still coating those shuko as he held them up almost bewildered and wondering how it was that this had translated to the here and now.

Here being the underworld, and now … well, now was subjective wasn't it, considering the here. The trappings of his last life still had the power to loom large apparently though and he was a bit confused as to why he still wore the armor and weapons of the Shichinintai instead of the gentler robes of the Doctor he had also been, the kinder side of that living personality that he had been possessed of when he had left the mortal plane once more. So integrally wrapped were those two separate sides of his personality however, that he supposed that he could see it being this way, and though that life was no more it seemed that something he had learned while raised as the undead under Naraku's control of the Shikon shard had kept him just like this now.

Ah yes, it was coming to him now. The unfairness of it as always hit him square in the chest, his heart giving an uncomfortable thump as he discarded his weapons and armor, carefully putting them away on a shelf that had not been there before he turned to use it. He was also studiously avoiding what else lay on that shelf, simply because he did not want the cacophony of memory there overwhelming the shred of control he had on i this /i form. This was the way she had seen him last and this would be the face that he would keep until he saw her again. It would be easier that way, though the longing for her would not decrease and the sadness at the missed chance did not make that longing easy to bear.

He knew that there was no telling of how the years would pass in the mortal realm here, which was what had led to their problem in the first place after all. That feeling of helpless longing increased when he also remembered that when he had last seen her that she had also been undead, and who could tell exactly how long she would wander thus before being laid to rest? A snort of laughter had come at that thought, she was still powerful even in that body created of her former bones and grave soil, it would have to be something powerful indeed to destroy her now.

They had been meant for each other, but the timing had been once more tragically wrong. She had been impatient for the newest life and gone ahead of him, leaving him to follow as he could but he'd gotten it wrong again. He wasn't too certain of his understanding of what she had gone through, only knowing that somehow she had died betrayed, full of sadness and rage that had carried with her back into the world when she'd been raised up once more, though not in her own body as he had been. Yet when he had finally been with her again, he knew that she felt that same pull to him that he did to her, though he felt she had put some of that into her sensing of the Shard that was used to keep him mobile.

Her face however was still the same as before, the same way that his was, they had looked so much like their first selves that now he wondered that had she just waited, or he had hurried faster on the path, if this would not have been the time for them to finally be happy once more. There had been a pair of shining lives that had he wished to pull the memories forth would come to him and taunt him with what could have been, but he did not want to lose himself there because after all he might miss her return, whenever that might be.

One could say that he worshipped at the fount of memory though, despite all that, the last moments of his reborn life replaying over and over because after all she had been there. She had been called Kikyou and he Suikotsu, and he would whisper her name and his when the waiting threatened to grow too long. Years would pass like that, and the other fell away, the personality subsumed within the whole once more. But her memory remained strong, the sound of her voice as she had been there with him at the last, and he would remain strong because of that. She had been there for him and he could do no less than to be here for her when she came back.

Finally the day came that when he looked in the mirror the face he saw was not that of himself, or the other, or any of those tantalizing images of his past selves. It was her, and then he knew that it was over, she was at peace. His strong limbs surged into motion, feral strength flooding them as he ran with the uncanny grace that had been the hallmark of his savage self, he ran because he did not want her to have a moment where she felt that she had woken here alone and abandoned. This time would not be like before.

She was still in those red and white robes that spoke of former and current power, that spoke of her being a miko when he found her lying supine in the softly colored grass. In the space between heartbeats he had knelt to gather her up and surrendered to the overwhelming need to hold her close. He nearly sobbed at her scent and the feel of her in his arms once more, and while he knew that another had loved her while she had been in this form, that love was nothing compared to what he held for her in his heart, and what she held for him. Her voice came slowly as her eyes opened, as she came to herself once more, and while she called him by that name she had known him last he knew from her tone that she remembered before as well as he did.

"Suikotsu, you waited for me."

His own voice was so gentle, gentle as his hand upon her cheek.

"I will always wait for you, my Kikyou."


End file.
